Flames of Destiny
by Kurmoi
Summary: As steely black eyes stared into the flames, he knew what he was ordained to become. As his parents fell at his feet, it set the path for his destiny. The beginning of the life of an assassin.
1. Flames

**VERY** short intro. But the whole story won't be this short, I promise. Truth be told, I have no idea where this is going… enjoy!

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Flames. Everything he could see was burning slowly, flamed claws reaching out and incinerating anything in their way.

He could only stand and watch numbly as everything he knew, everything that meant the world to him, was taken away in an instant.

Suddenly, he saw his parents. They were running desperately towards him.

They were going to make it, or so he thought. Until he saw the helicopter fly up behind them, ominously. It was then that he knew that he wasn't going to have time.

No time to say goodbye. No time to say a thing. Not a single thing.

A few short bursts of gunfire were fired. His mother stumbled first, falling first onto her knees, then his father. Just in front of him. The helicopter flew on, sensing that everybody was gone. He didn't really realise the severity of it, not until his mother fell, face first into the dirt, and it was then that he saw the bloodied holes in her back.

Until then, he thought that it perhaps, just perhaps, wasn't as bad as he had hoped. But as his father fell motionless to the ground beside his mother, he realised that it wasn't.

It was ten times worse.

"Mother?" That one word hurt so much to say. He dropped to his knees beside her, shook her limp body gently. "Mother? Wake up. Please, wake up,"

But there was nothing. Or as much as you would expect from an inanimate corpse.

A single drop, one lone tear fell from his eye before he wiped it angrily away and got to his feet, making a solemn promise.

_I will avenge you. Mother, Father. I will avenge your deaths or die trying._

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It's not Ryu! –Collective gasp- Yeah… so Bayman's pretty cool… but not as cool as Ryu!


	2. Lost Innocence

Wow! Thankyou for so many reviews for such an indecently short chapter! You all rule! And Razzbairee, you had me cracking up. I wouldn't quite say he's pretty… but he is damn cool. And I love some of his moves. Crunch. It's great!

Hmm… now… how _can_ I fit Ryu in here? "And then, out of the blue, Ryu Hayabusa appeared! Why? Because the author wanted him. He can go now. End of chapter,"

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"We'll take him in,"  
Little did he know at the time that those were the words that would secure his fate.

He was pushed through into the main hall, and his mouth fell open. So many children, all sitting there. Some talking, some eating silently. But so many of them.

"All of you have been selected to serve your country," A loud voice boomed from the front, belonging to a stout man with a rather noticeable moustache. "Here you will be whittled down, until Russia has only the best to serve them. Be proud to have this opportunity,"

"Maybe later," a young boy near him yawned, stretching tactlessly. "S'boring,"

A shot rang out. He started. The next thing he knew, everyone knew, was the boy falling into his food bowl, dead. Splatters of blood and other matter stained the white linen cloth.

Many children began screaming, crying. He merely stood, stunned, as one of the adults cleaned up the mess and carted the body away as though it was nothing but a sack of potatoes. The crying children were instantly silenced with another gunshot, this time into the roof. A smouldering hole was the only evidence.

"Understand!" the moustache-man bellowed. "We only want the best. And if you are here, then you already know too much. The top secret works of Russia are here. Hence, if you fail us, you fail Russia. You fail Russia, you forfeit your lives. Understand?"

_So, this is a competition of sorts. You win, you live. You lose, you die. I have to win. Have to get my revenge for Mother and Father's death. Live my life for them, get revenge for them._

_And to do that… I have to survive. Against all the odds. _

A small whimper sounded from across the second table. A small blonde girl was sitting there, brown eyes wide and terrified.

The moustache-man pointed to her, and it was with a sinking heart that he watched the still smoking gun rise.

_Maybe I have to win and triumph. But she… that little girl. She's so young. Surely they couldn't just release her…?_

"Fellow soldiers and soldiers-to-be! This is a perfect example of those we wish to eradicate from our lines. Those too cowardly and too afraid to stand up for what is right for their country. Remember, little girl, you know too much,"

The girl cried out and hid her eyes as the gun pointed at her head.

He stood, transfixed by the sickening sight. He could do something. He could. He felt his hands clench, perspiration beading them as he looked around, hoping that somebody, anybody would stand up for the girl and do _something._

Suddenly, the girl's eyes flickered open, resting on him. Only for a moment.

The next moment, they were splattered across the room like the rest of that innocent face.


	3. Children as numbers

Umm, well, hello! Bayman has brown hair. At least that's what it looks like on the DOA blobs, it's hard to tell, but it is supposed to be brown. What is with everyone and brown hair, anyway? Never mind. Hahaha… just to totally kill off the serious mood, the next 'chapter' is a special bit specially for Razzbairee. And my own amusement, too. Speaking of Razzie… if there's one thing you like?! How can you narrow it down to **one** thing? There are like, one MILLION things you can like about Hayabusa! Ack! –Falls over-

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He couldn't afford to show anybody weakness. The outward façade was the same as the majority of the children. Cold and emotionless. According to the moustache-man, who turned out to be a general of some description, that was what you needed to succeed in being a loyal supporter to Russia. An emotionless attack regardless of the circumstances and the honour to fight for your country.

_I have that. I have to have that. I will show everybody._

Most of the weaker children had been killed or left to die. Some were even killed by their more brutal peers in attempts to gain the general's attention. However, there was still a handful that had miraculously managed to survive thus far, against all the odds. In fact, one was crouched in the corner nearby him. A young boy, light dusty auburn hair veiling a blanched face as he sobbed bitterly.

Finally, the sobbing grew to be too much. He quietly walked over. The boy started, hazel eyes staring wildly at him. _Probably expecting me to pull out a gun or something and murder him, _he thought bitterly.

"What's your problem?" he asked in as kind a voice as he could muster.

Hazel eyes stared at him for a moment before disappearing again under a veil of auburn hair.

He remained silent for a minute, simply watching and observing, before impatience got the better of him and he dug the boy in the ribs. "I asked you a question. What's your problem?"

The boy raised pained hazel eyes to look squarely at him. "I had to kill my sister. They killed my parents, and then forced me to kill my sister, the only family I had left,"

"Why?" he blurted out before he could stop himself from actually becoming involved with this young boy's affairs.

"You'll have to do it soon. Kill someone you've become friends with here, someone they consider disposable. That is, if you have," the 'look' that the young boy shot him was pointed. "Even if you haven't. That's how they are going to keep the worthy people in and weed the feeble ones out,"

_Oh. So I just have to go up and kill someone they consider weak? _"Any suggestions?"

"Yes. Me,"

"What are you talking about?"

The boy's expression was determined. "I want to join my family again, no matter what. Anything rather then be roped into their domination plan. Anything rather then be turned into a robot, manipulated by the power you could get but never will. Shoot me,"

"You must be-"

From nowhere, the boy pulled out a pistol, throwing it to him. "I must be nothing. Shoot me,"

He shook his head. "You are insane,"

The boy smirked, pulling out another pistol, wiping his eyes. "Shoot me or I will shoot you,"

_Shit. _The boy raised the gun, cocked it. Pulled the trigger…

A loud bang sounded. Another and another. The boy slumped to the floor, bullet wounds to his chest, neck and stomach oozing crimson red blood.

And strangely enough, he felt nothing. Nothing as he watched the boy still in his own blood, his soul rejoining those of the family which Russia had stolen. Nothing at all.

Nothing at all towards the boy, anyway.

_"Mother? Mother! Father!"_

As a young boy's distant voice desperately called out to his lost parents, his eyes narrowed. Anger shining through the pain.

"Well done, kid," a soldier's voice made him start. "Good work. You survive this eviction round, at least. Keep it up so you won't be the next… statistic,"

_That's all we are. Numbers to go into their army. Killing each other to save our own wretched skin, that's it._

The soldier walked off. Not once was he ever expecting the bang. Not until it was too late.

A small grin from behind the child, holding the gun.

_The next statistic indeed._


	4. Hayabusa's cameo

Ya, this is what _would _happen if I could do it, but I can't, because it kind of doesn't follow so well. Nevertheless, it amuses me. Tee hee!

This chapter is like, a belated birthday present for Razzbairee which wasn't posted on the right day because I am lazy. I'm sorry! Lol! But anyway... enjoy!

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He couldn't afford to show anybody weakness. The outward façade was the same as the majority of the children. Cold and emotionless. According to the moustache-man, who turned out to be a general of some description, that was what you needed to succeed in being a loyal supporter to Russia. An emotionless attack regardless of the circumstances and the honour to fight for your country.

_I have that. I have to have that. I will show everybody._

Suddenly, he noticed a young boy sitting in a nearby corner, long chestnut hair veiling a blanched face as he sobbed bitterly. He narrowed his eyes at the dawning realisation.

"Damn you, Hayabusa, what are you doing here?" he snapped angrily. "First you stop me from killing you, and then you steal my spotlight? Mores to the point, why are you crying, you loser? Did Mummy pull your hair when she was brushing it or something?"

Emerald eyes rose, shining with tears. "Some fan-girl put me in this…" a sniffing pause. "…this story. And I can't get out. I want to go home,"

"How do you think _I _feel?" he exclaimed indignantly. "I'm the main character! And then _you _come along. Yeah, it's alright for _you, _because you're this writer's pet. Me, I don't even know whether I get to stay alive or not. How the hell do you think _I _feel?"

Sniff. Hayabusa shook his head. "I don't care. _I'm_ stuck in here. I don't even belong in Russia, anyway. I don't speak a word of Russian. I'm not Russian. This is Russia. Why am I even here, anyway? What is the point of my existing here?"

_Ah, the meaning of life pondering… _

"And besides, considering she likes me, she certainly doesn't show it. You should read some of the stuff she's written about-"

"You know what? This story might be blood and gore filled. I might have seen my parents die a terrible and gruesome and innocence-shattering death. But, as much as I may have seen, heard or done, there is no way I want to hear about what you were about to say. Got it?"

"Fine…" Hayabusa blinked big emerald green eyes. "Where are we, anyway? What is this story even about?"

"You know something else? This is my forth chapter here and I wouldn't have a damn clue,"

"Well, that makes two of us," Hayabusa mumbled. "I don't like this story. I want to go home. Back to the clan, fishing by the river, conversing with Hayate… back to Japan. Russia sucks,"

"And I'm sure it speaks very nicely about you, too," he retorted. "See if we miss you,"

"See if _I _miss _you. _And your fat head," Hayabusa snapped.

"Hey! No Presents references! This is a totally different story! I won't swing you…" he threatened. Hayabusa paled.

"Okay, okay. That was harsh, really,"


	5. Anything at all

Man! I totally forgot about this story. I can't believe I forgot to post! It's been so long… -sniff- hope someone out there still remembers this story. Anyways, it is leading somewhere… (yay!) and hopefully updates will be a bit more… regular.

Hope you enjoy the chapter!

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"No, please! Don't shoot!"

A young girl's cry shattered his concentration. Three soldiers, pointing guns at a woman, seemingly the woman's husband, and their young child.

"Give us the money you owe us! You think you can get away with betraying the government like this?"

"We gave you all that we have!" the woman sobbed. "We have no more to give you!"

One single gunshot rang out. The husband fell to the ground, chest a bloodied ruin.

"Then you will give us your _lives, _wench!" The soldier yelled, striking the woman on the head. A wail sounding more like that of an animal then a human being escaped the woman's lips as she embraced her husband's corpse.

Strange, that. How something that used to be so intact, human flesh, could be reduced to so much meat in a single shot.

The girl cried out again, burying her head in her mother's arms. From where he was standing, he could just hear the woman's spoken pleas. "Spare us, please, spare us…"

"Hey, you!" One of the soldiers barked to him. "Take the kid!"

"Please, spare us! We will do anything we can for you!" the woman begged.

Another gunshot rang out and the mother's pleas abruptly stopped.

"Mother…" The word started as a whisper, yet soon turned into a shriek. "Mother! Mother! _Mother! Father! _How could you? How could you do this? What is your government trying to prove? Please…" she grabbed a hold of his shirt with a surprisingly strong grip. "Please… you know what I'm going through. My parents killed… assassinated by the government… please, do something! Anything!"

He cocked his head, lowering his gun momentarily. "Anything?"

The girl's face was as white as a sheet. "Yes, please! Anything!"

He stared at the girl. Strawberry blonde hair falling around her face in tight curls. Glasses, though rather bent and damaged, emphasised pale blue eyes. A pretty little thing, around his age. She couldn't have been more then twelve.

_I wonder what she was before she was dragged into this bloody war. A student, no doubt. A good one? What does she want to do with her life? What does she want to be? What does the future hold for her?_

Well… he knew the answer to that one.

The gunshot was loud against the sudden silence. The hands on his shirt tightened before relaxing. He kicked the girl's body away, turning it over with his foot.

"You don't understand, little girl. You have to fight. Otherwise, you die. Those are the rules. Fight or die. And don't trust anybody. Especially not… me."


End file.
